Curse of The Black Moon
by Sundiel260
Summary: 'We keepers of the darkness, here by hold oath under the black moon. For the troubled souls who find no rest and surfer great in their life, we the-' Ford squinted his eyes, trying hard to read the ancient text, but the words beyond that point were far from anything legible. But he had to know, he had to know if it had something to do with his brother being on deaths row.
1. Prologue

_1987, November 14_

Five years. Five, long, hard, sleepless nights, years. That was about half the time he was kicked out of home and forced to live homeless on the street filled with danger around every corner of every day he spent traveling out on his own.

Five years. Five, lonely, guilt ridden, nightmare waking hours, years. A cold gust of wind sent shivers down Stan's back, reminding him of his current task at hand. With an nonchalant huff, Stan tugged his scarf tighter around his face, trudging deeper into the forest.

Gravity Falls was, from all that he's learned from his brother's research and seen firsthand of this place, entirely **_not_** a safe place. With monsters lurking in the shadows and creatures big as half the size of a skyscraper, it was a wonder how Ford had manage to survive this place for so long without him. Of course he had a few run ins himself that nearly landed him in death's grip, but he always, somehow, managed to escape and live to see another day.

Another day. Another week. Another month. Another year. Which all added up to five, whole, undeniably aggravating, pain inflicting, headache infesting, long years since Ford had been lost inside of the portal.

A incident that Stan himself had caused.

Guilt stabbed him deep in the heart. Just thinking about the horrible incident kept him up all night sick to the stomach. The one moment his brother needed him, and he had to go ruin it all by being immature and selfish. And what did that cost him?

His brother.

A soft quiet sigh left his lips, turning into a semitransparent small puff cloud that drifted away into nothing in the cold air breeze. No matter what his mistakes were, Ford was always the price of it. Why? Did the universe have something against him so much that his twin had to suffer the cost of his misdeeds?

Were his actions that treacherous and evil that it was enough to cause harm to the ones he held dear to him? Was he some sort of mistake? Like how Pa used to call him behind his back?

Stan stopped in his tracks. Another raw emotion stabbed at him, this time deep within his soul.

Pa.

The one man that Stan had tried endlessly to gain approval of, only to be thrown out in the end for his one mistake that cost his whole family everything.

Just another slip up mess after the other.

All leaving behind permanent results of his actions.

Anger burned within him, continuing on with his previous task at hand. This mistake, however, was not going to be permanent. He was going to fix his mistake. He was going to rescue Ford from the portal, no matter how hard or how long it was going to be. And this time, he would make sure that everything would be set right.

There were a few set problems in his path that was making it difficult to complete his task so easily however. The first being the portal, the main big problem of the whole mess. The portal was in disarray, broken in so many places that Stan wasn't sure how long it would take him to find out how to fix it properly. The second was another big concern. Finding out how to work it and bring Ford home.

Stan knew he wasn't the smart type of guy. That was always more Ford's field of strong point. But he was smart enough to know that doing this required some knowledge on finding out how to work the portal without some insight of knowing how to operate it right.

Going about this in the dark blindly would cost him everything, so this was the one thing he **needed** to be careful with. But to do that, Stan needed all three journals to work the machine properly. Which would explain why he was out in the woods at night with a lantern in one hand and a bat strapped to his back, searching for the missing two books.

It was almost suicide. Going into the forest at night was ten times as worse than going in the day. In fact, going into the woods at any time, night or day, was a one way ticket to death's door. But if Stan hadn't been on the road most of his life for ten years filled with hardships and life threatening situations, then maybe he would have considered not going so deep far in the thick forest.

Maybe.

After all, Stan wasn't one to follow basic rules of keeping a distance from danger. If he did, where would all the fun and excitement be? No work without a bit of sweat and pain.

Still, he kept an eye out for any sort of danger. One could never be too careful in these woods walking carefree and unaware of things that would make you its next meal. And he wasn't going to take the risk of coming unarmed and unprepared.

CRACK.

Stan jumped, pulling out his bat on instinct and pointing in the direction the sound came from. A moment later, he slowly relaxed as a small white rabbit hopped out from the bush, staring at him a moment with a twitchy nose, and then bounded away into the dark night.

"Heh. Jus' a bunny." Stan chuckled. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but being here in the forest made him jumpy and uneasy. With all the unseen dangers around, there was no telling what was out there.

"Alright, Stan. 'Nough games. Ya already wasted time workin' on the portal all day, an' that got ya nowhere."

Stan huffed, turning back on his uncharted trail ahead of him. If someone was to say that Stan was looking around aimlessly, then they would be wrong on some degree. Stan had made sure that he didn't search the same area of the woods each time he went in. He already had a decent map in his head for visiting some area of the woods so many times, and had recognition for landmarks in the places.

Tonight however, Stan decided to take a different part of the forest this time, hoping to find any clues to finding his brother's journals. So far, he had no luck in finding anything other than few false scares from some harmless animals, the night so far had been rather peaceful and quiet.

In fact, it was too quiet.

Stan stopped in his tracks, suddenly noticing how quiet the forest was. As long as he remembered, the forest was never quiet, even at night when creatures of the nocturnal were at their most active. But now that he thought of it, he hadn't run into any of them. Not even those pesky gnomes made any appearances since he stepped into the forest.

No howl from a beast, no trees bending by the sheer size and weight of a passing by monster, no hungry creature hunting in the shadows of the dark, not even a small hoot from an owl. Nothing.

The forest that Stan grown used to over the past years had gone still, and silent. So silent, that not even the wind was stirring and the trees were still as stone. Not even the crickets were making a single note this night. And the air, filled with the aura of strangeness and something one could not explain, was gone. Now it only felt cold and dead, colder than Stan had ever felt, though, it didn't _feel_ cold.

No, Stan was quite warm in fact. He made sure to put on some decent thick clothes when he went out as the days were slowly turning into winter. And yet, while his body was warm and snug safe in his clothing, he still felt a deep utter chill running through him.

This was not normal, even by Gravity Falls standard level of 'normal'.

There was something wrong, something that made the whole forest go quiet and dead, something that not even the monsters themselves dare show their faces or their presence.

It was calm and quiet enough to put Stan on edge. He could say that he experienced this same feeling before, a 'calm before the storm' to put it lightly, though this one had a more… intense sort of feeling in the air.

Whatever the reason for the stillness and unease feeling, Stan was a stubborn man. This feeling, no matter how much his conscious screamed at him to turn back, was not going to make him give up on his quest now. He would push on, determine to see his quest to bring his brother back to the very end. No matter what it cost him.

With that set in mind, Stan continued on, taking spirited determined steps.

Which then fled with sheer cold terror taking hold, stopping Stan dead in his tracks as a loud, moaning, pained howl rippled in the air, shattering the still and silence.

The howl only lasted for a brief moment, but it almost felt like it was meant for an eternity. It lasted for an estimate of one or two minutes before fading to a stop. Broken and weary with pain were laced in the notes, echoing into the deep forest and beyond.

Stan knew that sound. It was a sound he heard many times, both from humans and animals alike.

The sound of death of a dying person.

Ice was in his veins, his heart pounding against his chest like a hammer, the air was refusing to leave his lungs, and his body felt like it had been petrified and turned to stone.

No point in Stan's life had he ever felt the need to flee. None had ever made him feel so weak and helpless, not even compared to the time his father had thrown him out of the house. This was something that drove in deeper and further into Stan than anything than ever before.

So badly did he want to turn around, run straight back to the shack, locking all the doors and windows and hope that morning would come soon and forget about this whole nightmare altogether.

And he was about to do so when another howl sounded, only this one didn't last as long as it suddenly was cut off short.

… and it was then that Stan caught another aspect of the howl. One that made him pause and ignore his gut that was telling him to flee. He had heard many tones of that death rattle before, but this one, this one despite its animalistic gurgle sounded higher and younger. Much younger.

And close by.

Stan didn't know it, but his body moved on its own, heading off toward to where he assumed the howling had come from. Almost as if he was in a trance by the howling, the way it sounded and how young… Stan had never heard anything so young sound like that before.

They **shouldn't** be making a sound like that.

Stepping through some thick bushes, Stan found the source of the wails. Right before him some distance away was a river, a big one at that. Its width was at least ten feet, and the length was far beyond Stan's lane of sight. But Stan was more focused on what was in the water.

A tree, long dead after toppling over, poked out from the rivers waves. Its branches were bare and smooth, all its leaves and bark having been plucked away by the currents tide and changing of seasons. But something clung on to the bare branches. Something that clutched onto the tree's extended limbs to keep from being pulled away by the river's strong pull and was growing weaker as the time passed.

To Stan, it looked like an oversized brown puffball, and he almost thought it was just that when it suddenly let out a low, weak cry. It wasn't as loud as its previous cries, but Stan was sure that this was indeed the creature making the howling noises.

And it broke his heart.

Stan felt pity from the small creature that he had just found, his stomach felt greatly uneasy by the creature's wails of pain, sounding so young and frail. No young being, no matter what or who they were, should sound like that. Ever.

Setting his only light source down, realizing that his bat was gone but dismissed it, Stan made his way over to the edge of the river. There was no real way for him to just simply reach out and grab the small creature, or any of the tree's dead branches, so pulling it out was not going to happen. Going back for any supplies was futile. Who knew how long the small thing could hold onto its life before the last of its strength was gone before Stan could return. No, the only real rational and quick way to do this was to get in and get a little wet.

Jumping in, the sudden shock of cold water seeping into his clothes sent Stan into a shivering fit. He had forgotten that winter was coming, and already the water was as cold as ice. Bracing himself, Stan slowly but surely made his way over to the tree. The water only reached up to his waist, yet Stan felt he was totally submerged under the waves, the cold seeping deep inside of him. Wouldn't be long till his legs were numb.

What's more was that the river's current was strong. Not enough to to bring down a full grown adult but it would surely sweep away any young child that came in here. If the cold didn't kill them than drowning would.

Finally reaching the tree, Stan carefully plucked the tiny creature, which now up close was a bit size bigger than a basketball, noting how limp it was as he took it into his arms, but not fully worrying as he could still feel the small furry lump shivering. Both of those were good and bad signs.

"Don't worry. Yer safe now." Stan didn't know what compelled him to speak in such a soft whispering tone, but it must have made it more soothing for the creature as it snuggled close to Stan's chest, no doubt seeking warmth there.

Well, it was a good start to recovery at least. Turning around, Stan hastily made it back to the river bank, somehow finding a way to get out of the cold water without setting the small thing he now carried in his arms down. Though now out of cold water, they both were now attacked by the cold air, not helping in the current situation.

Stan was huffing out clouds once he got to his lantern. Lifting the lantern up close, Stan looked down at the small creature he had just rescued. The first thing Stan noticed was the dirty and grim covering the small thing. Second being was that whatever this small creature was had small feathers poking out from the filth. Other than that, he couldn't make out any other detail as it was curled up into a ball, shivering.

"Whoa. N-not the p-prettiest thin' 'r-r-round, are y-ya?" Stan joked, his words shaking as much as his body. "C-come on. I-I'll take y-ya back ta m-my p-p-place an' get u-us warmed up-p." Shifting the creature closer, Stan started to make his way home, putting some hurry in his step to get there faster.

Not noticing a bright, blue glow far behind him.


	2. April 30, 2022

_Entry Log,_

 _April 30, 2022_

 _It's hard to believe that over ten years have passed since my return to this dimension, my home dimension. And how wonderful these years have been. They have had their ups and downs, but these past years I will never want to ever change._

 _Speaking of changes, these last few years have made changes on all of us, including my great niece and nephew, Mabel and Dipper. The two siblings that brought joy and hope back into my life when I though all things were lost to me. How they came into my life I find to be both a blessing and a gift of fate. If it were not for them, I would have stayed the same foolish man I was forty years ago. Blinded by my own ambitions and self-idealism of being a hero are far behind me, thanks to the young pair of twins._

 _Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself._

 _Dipper, my dear nephew, has become quite a name of reputation to remember. The dear boy has taken up archaeological studies, becoming quite taken with mystery in our ancestors past over the years. For being only 22, Mason has greatly proven himself to be capable of such task ahead._

 _As for Mabel, well, she hasn't changed one bit in her personality. She's still the same good natured, sugar consuming, charismatic person I ever met. But while her personality is still the same, Mabel has proven to be a step ahead of us, surprising us all each time we check in on her. Her optimism and straight forwardness had led her to being a pupil under a famous fashion designer._

 _Who I might add is a really scary woman. I honestly think that if she wasn't a hundred percent human, I would say she's a witch/ogre hybrid in disguise! When she glares at you, it feels like she's killing your soul!_

 _Anyway, Mabel is proving to have a stable career ahead of her. Stanley and I hope for the best for our grandniblings, as well for our other friends back in Gravity Falls._

 _For Soos, the current Man of Mystery who runs the Mystery Shack with his wife Melody. For Wendy, a strong woman who carries on her family's lumberjack tradition and takes things in stride. For my old friend Fiddleford H Mcgucket, who's become quite rich from selling his inventions to the government and continues to do what he loves best._

 _Playing his banjo and creating all sorts of new inventions. What a genius he is! Practically the whole manor is filled with all sorts of creative things!_

 _Speaking of manors, that brings me back to a certain_ _ **Northwest**_ _family. I had not seen much of Preston or his wife over these years, though there's always some rumor or update about them I catch in newspapers or pick up in conversations. It would seem that Preston tries to keep most of what's left of the family fortune and name the same, but the income is less than expected for them to ever return to their pervious life style._

 _(Stanley's quite glad for that. From what he's told me about them from his experience with them, he would rather have them penniless than over powerful snobby rich people.)_

 _There is one exception to the Northwest's._

 _Pacifica._

 _True though she may be a little hard to get used to at first because of her parents upbringing,_ _from experience of my own_ _, she is certainly not like the rest of her family. She can get a little spoiled sometimes, but she's really a good person deep down, trying hard to correct all the wrongs her family has done. A hard goal ahead, but with help and support from the twins, whom she has grown to be good friends with over the years, she's determine to get her quest seen through._

 _(And we might be expecting great-grandniblings some point in the near future from the way Mason and Pacifica have been acting around each other. Stanley may deny it, but I can see the excitement in his eyes, as well as the impatience.)_

 _When will Mason propose to her?_

 _As for me and Stanley, we've been living our dream. These years out at sea with my twin I will never forget. All the adventures and sights we have seen, new friends and enemies. And we have grown and learned about each other. My brother, the person who I shamefully admit to have wronged in the past, I will never doubt that he is always there to have my back. Just as I have his._

 _…_ _But, as of late, I fear that Stan may be keeping something from me. Though our bond is mended and we trust each other, there are still some things we do not tend to share with each other if it means to keep us safe or uncomfortable to share. But I'm certain that there's something that's going on that Stanley may confine from telling me._

 _Something that… worries me greatly._

 _I will try to get him to open up and tell me what's wrong. But if it's what I think it is, then—_

"Hey Poindexter! Ya dead in there? Come on! I need help dockin' the boat!" Stan's voice, muffled through the door, followed with some hard knocks jolted Ford out of his thoughts.

"I'll be out in a minute Stanley."

"Well don't keep me waitin'." Ford smiled, rolling his eyes as footfalls faded from the door.

Their supplies were running low, so it was mandatory to dock at the nearest location and stock up on what they needed. However, since there were no anomalies detected on his radar, they decided to stay on shore for the time being. Russia was a good place to visit in this time of year. There was plenty of places to visit in Russia as well, so it would be a good idea to stretch their legs out for a bit.

Setting down his journal and pocketing his pen, Ford stood up, wincing as his legs ached in protest of the added weight. Maybe he should consider not to sit on his legs for so long. He may be fit, but his years were getting to him.

With a bit of stretching, Ford stepped outside of their shared room, flashing Stan a smile once he was out on the deck. The sky was clear of clouds, and the weather was perfect if one didn't mind the cool temperatures.

"Finally! What ta ya so long? Got yer head stuck in that diary of yours again?"

"Journal, Stanley." Ford stated, taking the wheel from Stan.

Stan shrugged, grabbing some rope. "Whatever. 'S the same difference if ya ask me."

"Well, actually, journals are quite different from diaries since people are more open to share what they wrote in it than diaries because—"

"Yeah yeah yeah, nerd stuff!" Stan waved a hand in nonchalance. "Jus' keep yer eyes on yer steerin' will ya?"

Ford rolled his eyes but was smiling in good nature, keeping the boat on a steady course as the Stan O' War II pulled into the docks. Despite visiting Russia on many accounts of their adventures, it was still a wonder to see so many people working the docks.

Boats, ten times larger than the Stan O' War II, were coming and going as they maneuvered around the ships, having the skills and experience to safely navigate through them without harm. Fishermen, trade dealers, and others were getting on or off of the docks, all carrying something from their voyage.

Once they were threw the bigger boats, they entered a more quiet and calm area of the docks were many ships were anchored to the dock. Finding a spot for the boat to dock wasn't easy, but they managed to find one and soon they were tying their home secured to the post.

"So what's the plan Sixer?"

"Well, supplies would be our first mandatory objective, then I suggest we do some exploring." Ford listed off their potential plans as they walked down the pier. "A proper break from anomaly searching may be our most top priority right now."

Stan hummed, nodding his head. "A break sounds great. I could use one after all the excitement we've been havin'."

"It's hasn't been that exciting Stanley. We've only had two or three run ins with any contact of anomalies. And they hardly paid us any mind or attention. Nothing to really call exciting."

"Says the nerd who wouldn't stop blabbin' out nerd stuff whenever he sees somethin'."

"I-I don't blab Stanley! I scientifically calculate out loud!"

With a loud bark of laughter, Stan slung an arm around Ford's shoulders, laughing with good heartiness as Ford rambled on.

* * *

Russia, by no extent, was clearly a place of awe in Stan's eyes. It was a big place, even for the small town that they docked in was a bit bigger than Gravity Falls. The morning was still in the early hours yet it seemed that everyone was awake and out about doing their own things or rushing to get things done.

No matter how many times they had come and gone from this place, it was still quite an awe to see how things were as time went by. Even the food was different yet at the same time still the same.

And his stomach agreed wholeheartedly.

"Now that's the stuff!" Stan grinned, wiping his sleeve across his face as he set his mug down. "It's been a while since I had real food in my gut."

"Well that's what's happens when we run out of the usual edible stuff." Ford set his fork down, feeling content to have his stomach filled with something that wasn't fishy or had a taste of high amounts of salt.

Food from Russia certainly had exquisite taste to it, even when one spends months out on sea with depleted food resources that would force one to fishing for food. Good thing that both twins had enough experience to double, even triple their supplies if they planned to go out again for who knows how long. But sometimes they ran out before they got anywhere close to the nearest dock, and would still be days away from the nearest town.

So, fishing was essential. Sure it took hours on hours before they caught a decent bite, but in truth it helped both of them bond more closely. Hours of waiting for a fish, and on rare occasions strange creatures, to take a bite at their bait, the two would usually swap stories and share memories to make the hours go by faster. Old wounds were reopened and scars were shown, but the bond between them had grown deep and mending, regaining what they had lost so long ago.

But, the same taste of fish everyday did grow tiring very quickly. Having something other than fish was certainly a treat.

"Alright, breakfast been dealt with." Stan huffed, leaning back in the booth. "What's next on the list?"

Ford hummed, leaning his elbows on the table. "Well, getting our supplies would be on top of the list, buuut maybe we could do some sightseeing first. I've looked the town up and it has some interesting places we could visit. Maybe even take some photos to send to the kids?"

"Heh, by the amount we're sendin' them, Mabel's sure ta have, like, dozens of 'em by now."

"That is quite true." Ford chuckled, shaking his head as he imagined a room full of Mabel's scrapbooks. "Speaking of the kids, we should probably check in on them and let them know what we're up to."

Stan nodded, smiling fondly as the thought of their two young relatives crossed his mind. It had been some time since they last spoke to them, due to their busy lives and having poor reception over the net line over great distances.

"Seeing of sights in little town?" Both men looked up as a new voice enter. "T's a good town." A woman, seemingly in her mid-twenties with her hair tied up in a bun, stood at their booth with a tray of empty dishes and a jug in her other hand. "Little town has many sights to see and has famous museum in center of town. Visitors favorite place to see."

"We'll be sure ta be there." Stan sent the woman a wink, earning a playful eye roll from her as she smiled and walked away.

At the mention of a museum, Ford perked up in interest.

"… oh no." Stan groaned after spotting the look on his brother's face.

"I believe I know where the first stop on our sightseeing will be."

"Anythin' but a museum Sixer." Stan practically begged, rubbing his face. "Anythin' but nerd central!"

* * *

Unfortunately, Stan's complaints were unheeded as thirty minutes later, Ford was dragging his twin along as they walked around in the old marble stone building.

For the most part Stan had kept quiet, letting Ford guide them as he absorbed the small town's history, occasionally stopping to look over a preserved artifact or read over small facts of history. And he had to admit, the lady back at the café was right. The museum certainly was an eye catcher. Aside from all the boring details, the place had some pretty interesting stuff to look at. Maybe no one would notice one or two items missing~.

"Don't even think about it Stanley."

"I wasn't."

"Yes, you were. You had that look on your face."

"Ya ain't even lookin' at me."

"Then I must know you well enough by now, don't I?

Stan stuck out his tongue, chuckling as Ford swatted at him. "But seriously, look at this stuff Poindexter! Who wouldn't want ta try an' take a few thin's?"

" _Stanley!_ " Ford hissed, pulling his brother close and looking around. Thankfully, the room had only two other occupants besides the Pine twins, and both didn't seem to hear or acknowledge Stan's remark. "What did we promise _never_ to say out loud in public?"

Stan sighed, rolling his eyes as he brushed his brother's hand off. "Not ta joke 'bout it in public."

"Especially with another country's historical treasury! You know what happened last time you—"

"Yeah yeah. I know. No need ta brin' it up Sixer." Stan huffed, walking away.

Ford sighed, turning back to the old pot that he'd been examining.

While Ford was busy looking at the old artifacts, Stan decided to explore a bit. Ford would catch up with him later, right now he wanted to have a look around till he was bored and probably start planning which items to take that no one would notice missing.

Then, his eyes landed on something that made him stop in his tracks.

Just a few feet ahead of him was a large farmed portrait on the wall hung three feet off the ground. The portrait depicted a landscape where the land meet with the sea, a lighthouse faded in fog for a distance on the right, and a little small house with a broken fence. In the center of the portrait was a woman, whose back was turned and her front hidden. She was partially naked save of her lower half where what Stan would assume to be a deep brown rag was covering her and a seal laying behind her, obscuring the rest of the woman's form. There was another seal beside her, on her left. This seal was looking out to sea, just like the woman, with the woman's hand on top of its back. The waves in the portrait were reflecting the sun fading rays as it sank below the horizon.

But it wasn't the portrait itself that caught Stan's eyes. It was the woman standing beside it that did.

Only, Stan _knew_ she wasn't just a woman. One didn't spend years with a brother that researched strange and weird things and not know the sight of an anomaly when you see one. The woman, clad in mismatching clothes that would stand out anywhere, was no doubt a selkie. Her skin was dark with patches around her face, her body was thick with meaty muscles, her eyes were big and had the look of deep caution whenever someone passed by, and her hands were wrapped around her hip, gripping the fabric tightly enough that her knuckles were turning white.

Stan had encountered selkies before. Both from Mabel's sea friend and the few that were on land. This selkie seemed young, in her mid-teens perhaps, but she looked to have experience of dangers on land if her hands weren't a big enough indication. Luckily for Stan, he had pretty good knowledge on teens and selkies.

Moving his eyes off the woman and onto the portrait, Stan went over, stopping a good distance away from the selkie woman. She must have seen him coming, for her eyes were solely on the portrait now, tensing up slightly.

Stan didn't speak for a while. Knowing well enough that he had to be careful with dealing things such as this needed to be thought through, or he would never hear the end of Ford's lecture on safety. ( ** _HA!_** _That's a riot._ )

Stan glance at the selkie momentarily before looking back at the portrait, keeping his voice low as he spoke. "Yer skins pokin' out of yer jacket."

The selkie jumped, looking at him with wide eyes before turning her focus to her jacket, letting a small gasp as, indeed, some of her sealskin was dangling out in the open. She quickly adjusted her skin back under her clothes, once again hiding it from view, cursing in Russian while gripping the front of her jacket.

Selkies didn't tend to be anything dangerous or violent, but they would lash out if they felt that they were in danger. It was best to give the woman some space. It was a dash or stay decision at this moment, and Stan would have to give her space if she was going to run. Since selkies were one of the few nonviolent anomalies, there was nothing to worry about them harming other humans.

He didn't feel like bothering anyone else at the moment, so he kept looking at the portrait, admiring all the detail it was put into it. Off to the side of the portrait was a small gold plaque with the words etched in.

 **A Woman's Heart to The Sea, Johnifer J. Phallus**.

It was fitting for this type of painting, Stan mused. There was some longing in the woman's poster in the portrait looking out at the sea.

Nodding his head once, Stan turned to leave, thinking it was time to go back to planning his little heist. But when he did, the selkie spoke.

"I know what you are."

Stan stopped, looking over his shoulder. "Hmm?"

The selkie didn't say anything, but kept her head down as she turned and left, leaving Stan bewildered and confused.

"There you are." Stan snapped away from his confusion as Ford came up to him. "What on earth were you doing Stanley?"

Stan blinked but soon after shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, enjoyin' the art work."

* * *

They stayed at the museum for about another twenty minutes till Stan had to remind Ford of the lack of supplies on their ship. By the time it was afternoon, their supplies were full once again with food that would last them for a few months out at sea.

"Come on, Sixer. Get this old machine runnin'!"

"Be patient Stanley. It's hard to get a good connection on this old thing out here."

The item in question was a beat up laptop perched on top of the table that looked to have been through years of suffering and damage that was put back together again by a junior mechanic and somehow still managed to work, though at a slow pace.

As such it was a hassle to get it working on some mornings.

"Ah, here we go." The laptop finally hummed to life, the screen lighting up and ready for use. "I wish Fiddleford was here. He could make this a lot easier to get this working up to speed again."

"Or turn it into 'nother one of his robots." The memory of the last machine Fiddleford had 'upgraded' for them was still fresh in both the twins' minds. Stan was still wary to use the blender to this day.

Ignoring Stan's comment, Ford opened their mail. It wasn't unusual to see their e-mail full from the messages sent by their friends from Gravity Falls, mostly from Soos or Wendy and few more from Fidd's. One message in particular stood out from the rest.

"Looks like we got a letter from Mabel." Ford opened the message, moving over slightly so Stan didn't lean over him to look at the screen.

 _Hey Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford!_

 _How's the water out there? I hope you two are having a blast out there and finding a LOT of monsters!_ _(:(:(:_ _! My day's been GREAT! But also busy. REALLY busy! In fact, a whole order for clothes just came by yesterday and it's SUPER LARGE! O:!_

 _Apparently, it's for this big wedding and the bride wants everything to be perfect and ready. So I'm going to be really busy working over here and I won't be able to chat with you guys. ),: T-T ),:!_

 _But don't worry! I'm sure I'll be done soon! 3!_

 _I already told Dipper, so he already knows. Keep me posted!_

 _Love, Mabel._

 _PS, Miss Fryderyka says hi!_

Stan shivered at the name. "Yesh, how can Mabel stand that lady?"

"I'm sure Mabel sees something in her if she's not that imitated by her."

"Are ya sure she's really, ya know, human? Or even a lady?"

"I'm certain that she's a hundred percent human."

"…"

"… okay, seventy four percent, but still. None of my scanners showed any indication that she _isn't_ human. Though, I'm not certain if any of them are working properly."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Are there any letters from Dipper?"

"Aside from the one we got last week, I don't believe that we've received any new messages from him."

Stan huffed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed against his chest. "That kid better not be sinkin' into his work. His life maybe crazy now with all that he's into, but he should at least let us know he's still breathin'."

"I'm sure he doesn't mean to Stanley. Collage can be very demanding for attention if one wants to have good grades." The years of his collage life floated around in his head, all the late nights and hours of study and work with little to no breaks that Fiddleford would have to force him to take one.

"Eh, kid should have it easy then. He's smart 'nough." Stan stood up from his chair, heading over to the cabinets where most of their supplies were still in bags litter on the floor.

"Don't you want to check in on him? I'm sure he would be delighted to hear from us."

"Nah, maybe later." Stan shuffled through the bags, putting supplies to their proper places. "Don't want ta bother him from his work."

A frown came on Ford's face. "… Stan, we wouldn't—" The laptop chimed, signaling to the twins that a new message had appeared. Ford glanced at the new message, smiling. "Oh! Dipper just sent us a message." The chair next to him was quickly occupied as he opened the new letter.

 _Hey everyone!_

 _Sorry that I haven't sending any messages lately. There was this really big important test I had to focus on._

 _Spoiler: I got an A~._ _(:_

 _Anyway, I'm sure you guys already got a letter from Mabel, so I won't have to fill you in on it. Life here at collage is okay. Paz complains that I'm not eating right though. What's wrong with having takeout for dinner every night?_

 _Still, everything is going a-okay over here. All my work is caught up, grades are good, and Paz and I managed to snap a few photos of creatures out over here! I've sent them along with the letter._

 _But enough about the life of studies and teachers breathing down your necks. How are you guys doing on your end? Anything interesting happening? Where are you now? Have you met any new monsters? Are both okay?_ ** _Are_** _you okay? Are you eating well Great Uncle Ford? Is Grunkle Stan breaking the law again? Are you both getting enough sleep? Are you taking your medication Stan?_

 _Please answer as soon as you can._

 _With love, Dipper._

Stan grimaced, rereading the letter over again. "Sheesh, when did he start gettin' nosey?"

"I'm sure he's just concerned about us Stanley."

Stan gave out a snort. "Na, somethin's up. He wouldn't be askin' this many questions on e-mail. It's like he's askin' us for some long answer or somethin'."

Ford looked at message over again, frowning deeply. "It… does seem that way."

They stayed quiet, mulling over their nephew's message.

"So… should we send one back? Jus' ta, ya know, make sure he's doin' alright?"

Ford hummed, leaning against Stan. "It would be reassuring to know if he's doing okay with his life."

Stan nodded in agreement, moving to start a message to send back to their great nephew, but stopped. Ford was still against him. They had grown use to each other's physical contact over the years. It spoke louder and more clearly then what they could ever say to each other when words failed them.

"Uh, Sixer? Not that I mind or anythin' but can ya move a bit?"

Ford was silent for a moment. "… You're hot."

Stan blinked. "Uh… thanks?"

"No, I mean." Ford leaned off of him, looking at him with a face that was analyzing a new anomaly. "You're warm. Very warm." Ford place the back side of his hand against the side of Stan's face, frowning deeply. "You feel like an oven Stanley."

"I do?" Stan placed one of his own hands on his face. He didn't feel like an oven. He actually felt pretty cool.

"Yes, you do. Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel fine."

"Are you sure?"

Stan frowned. "Yeah, I feel fine Poindexter. Nothin's out of the sort."

Ford was looking at him with deep concern, but nodded and thankfully removed his hand from Stan's face. "Alright, if you say so. Now, how about we get on that letter?"

* * *

He was fine. There was nothing wrong with him. He was okay, his body was just acting on its own accord like always. It was the weather. Yeah, the weather. Russia was a cold place right? Not enough warm days. His body was just trying to keep itself from getting frostbite. Yeah, that was it. He was fine. Nothing was wrong with his except for the weather.

He was fine.

He was fine.

He was **fine.**

Stan knew that he **_wasn't_** fine.

He felt and acted fine, all things he normally did were still the same. Eating fine, better now that they were stocked up on food that wasn't fish. Sleep was still having trouble staying on schedule out on the sea for various reasons. Having the time out on sea seeking adventure with the one person he wanted most to bond with again after so much heartache and pain was dream come true for both ends of the deal.

But there was the nagging feeling at the back of his head that was saying the difference.

That, no, something was NOT okay. Something was WRONG with him. Something BIG.

But, what?

What was wrong? He was sure that he was feeling alright, but Ford did say his body felt like an oven. Did he? He didn't feel like an oven, he felt just the same as usual.

Stan shook his head. He was overthinking this. If it was nothing, than it was **_nothing._** He shouldn't worry about it too much or his hair would turn white.

No, wait. His hair was already white.

A groan of annoyance growled deep in his throat. This was getting him nowhere. He should just drop the whole thing and focus on something that didn't send his mind on the frits. His hands tightened around something, looking down at the rope with a halfway finished knot.

That's right, now he remembered.

After the letter had been finished and sent, Stan had decided to work on some of the rope laying around the dock wanting to get something to do since neither of the twins knew what else to do. Ford must working on one of his nerd projects. Or going over his journal again. He didn't know. He hardly cared about all that nerd stuff, but it made Ford happy.

He chuckled in amusement, imagining what nerd stuff his brother was doing while he finished tying the knot. Maybe he would check in later on him, to make sure he was still breathing, and then make some lunch since it was some time past noon now.

Yeah, that sounded like a plan. Stan thought, leaning against the boat's railing, the cool breeze brushing by, shifting through his hair. It wasn't long enough to be a mullet, just a bit above his shoulders, but it was enough for Mabel to make ponytails out of it no matter how many times he was against the idea.

Stan chuckled, looking down at the water below with that fond memory in mind… only to stumble back with shout of fear, landing on his rear end. Not a few moments later, Ford came running out the door.

"Stanley?!" Worry and fear was clear in Ford's voice, helping Stan up off the floor while at the same time looking him over for any injuries. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Stan's mouth was moving, but his voice wasn't working with him, gesturing over to the boat's side with wild movements. "T-Th… th-th… I-I… thi-thing! W-water! Staring-staring at me! Ugly!"

Ford looked over to where Stan motioned at, taking the gun holstered on his belt out. Slowly, with careful steps and precision, Ford made his way to the edge, ready and alert as he slowly peeked over the edge.

A few seconds drawled out into a minute, then a minute to two, then three, then four and a half before Ford lowered his gun, still looking down to the waters below that showed nothing but his rippling refection looking back at him. His reflection was soon joined by another as Stan came up beside him, looking around for the thing that he saw just minutes ago.

"… It doesn't seem to be there." Ford finally concluded, holstering his gun.

"I swear I saw somethin' Sixer." Stan kept his eyes on the water, not totally convinced that whatever was there was truly gone.

Ford frowned. If it was an anomaly, his scanners should have detected it miles away, alerting him if any were near the boat, however all indicators were quiet. Stan obviously wasn't faking it either. He wasn't goofing or making some joke out of this if he was this worked up.

"So it could have been something that managed to go undetected from the radar. Something that could maybe have the ability to cloak itself so it wouldn't detected. Fascinating!"

Stan threw a disapproving glare at Ford. "Only you would find this interestin'."

"And why wouldn't I?"

"It almost bit my head off!"

"Come now Stanley, if it would have done such a thing, then it could have jump up on the boat to drag you down with it." Ford face gave a small lopsided smile. "Besides, you'd be too much of a struggle to be taken down that easy." He punched Stan's arm lightly, prompting the other to turn his head and huff. But Ford could see the small smile on his twin's face. "Do remember what it looked like?" He cast a glance down at the sea again, slightly hoping it would give some sort of answer.

Stan shrugged, coping his brother's action. "Eh, not much of a good look at it. All I could see of it was some, I don't know, white face with a black body or somethin'… though, I think the only clear thin' I saw was two big black holes an' orangey lights in em."

There was silence for a moment. A deep, heavy, thickness of silence that Stan could feel that something was wrong. His instincts were proven correct when he looked at Ford, confusion overcame his worry as Ford looked at him with a mix of deep worry and fear. It didn't help that his grip on the railing was turning his knuckles white.

"What?"

Ford quickly shook his head, shaking whatever thoughts that were stirring in his mind and, swallowing some saliva to his dry mouth, looked Stan straight in the eyes. "D-did…" He cursed at himself, steeling his voice as he spoke again. "Did this… ' _Thing_ ' have antlers? Or appendages sticking out of its head?"

A brow slowly went up on Stan's face as perplexed look came forth. "Nooooo. Didn't have a good look at it remember? … why?" He gazed back down at the sea, studying it carefully. "Is it somethin' dangerous?"

"… You, _could_ say that."

Stan stood straight, smiling widely with a devilish glint in his eyes. "Well, since we're gonna be off the monster huntin' for a while, how 'bout we have one more go 'fore we call it quits?"

The frown on Ford's face was not missed by a mile. "I thought we were on vacation right now?"

"Eh, yeah well, thin's can change in a second." Stan waved one hand nonchalantly as he leaned against the boat. "Jus' one more for the thrill. _Then_ we can take a break, alright?"

Ford looked somewhere between torn to compelling his thirst for studying the strange and weird. He knew Ford couldn't resist the chance of studying a possible new find in his research and it wasn't long till he sighed and nodded his head.

* * *

It was exactly two hours after that he started to get a headache. It started off small, just a little pinching sensation at the back of his head that pulsed at each heartbeat. Nothing too big, so shrugged it off.

By an hour later once they were out at sea again to start searching for their mysterious creature, the pain had doubled. It was a big annoyance, often making Stan flinch and rub his head in pain. Ford was looking at him in deep pity whenever the pain came by, but he quickly dismissed the pain and smiled at his twin, hoping it would be enough to ease his worries.

It didn't.

Time went on, and they still found no sign or sight of the creature Stan had seen. Nothing was showing on any of the radars, no matter which frequency Ford tuned them to.

What was worse was the pain had grown to the point that Stan could swear his head was splitting apart.

He grumbled, sitting in the bathroom holding his head as it throbbed in pain. He wish the medicine Ford had given him when his pain was clearly getting too much for him would kick in already. The headache was giving him a headache.

Not only that, but the rest of his body felt like pins and needles were being hammered into him, mostly in his shoulder blades and tail bone. More so on his right shoulder than the rest.

A sigh a relief washed over him as the pain slowly ebbed away. Not enough to say that it was gone, but enough that it was somewhat more bearable now. Ford would probably want him to rest after that whole ordeal, but it wasn't what Stan Pines would ever do. A little pain like this wasn't going to stop him that easily.

Getting up, he went over to the door while sparing the mirror on the wall a glance.

He barley turned the knob before he froze, slowly looking back at his reflection.

"… oh…"

* * *

Ford looked over his shoulder as he maintained the wheel, scowling with a disapproving glare as Stan came out the door with two plates of hot food in each hand. "What are you doing out here? You should be resting!"

Stan shrugged, sheepishly grinning as he held out a plate. "Eh, I'll rest when I'm sleepin'. Made us some dinner since it's gettin' late."

"You should be resting _now_ Stanley." Ford growled, taking the offered plate. "If you're having a headache that bad then you shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard!"

Stan just shrugged again. "Don't be such a worrywart. The pain's gone anyway." Ford opened his mouth to reply, but Stan started eating, putting a large quantity of food into his mouth.

Ford wasn't a hundred percent convinced that it was gone. The medicine he gave Stan was to ease it. It didn't have the full capability to fully get rid of it. But it was Stan for you. Always moving about and never resting even when he wasn't well.

With a sigh and a shake of his head knowing it would be futile to get Stan to rest up, Ford went back to steering the ship while slipping small bits of his food into his mouth.

The sun was setting over the horizon, casting the sky in the faded bright colors of sunset. Stars were starting to appear in the darkening sky, shining brightly to the earth below. He could make out a map with those stars, he had plenty over experience with stars guiding their way. And probably find one or two of those Greek mythology people up there that Ford like to find.

He wished that he could enjoy a night like this. But not tonight.

Looking back at his brother, Stan chuckled as Ford gave out a long yawn. "Tired Sixer? Looks like someone needs ta rest up."

"M'm not tired." Ford mumbled, rubbing one eye.

"Sure ya aren't." Stan shook his head, reaching out to grab hold of Ford's arm. He frowned when Ford swatted his hands away. "Come on Ford. Yer obviously tired. You go get some sleep, I'll handle steerin'."

But Ford shook his head. "Nooo. Not tiiired."

"Okay, now yer jus' actin' like a kid." He made for a grab at Ford's arm again, seeing as the elder twin was slumping more on the wheel.

"Annnnchoooor."

He stopped, looking at his twin in confusion. "What?"

"Annnnnnchoooooooor."

It took a while before it clicked in Stan's mind. "Anchor? Wait, you want ta stop out here?"

"Yeeeeesssth."

Stan shook his head, sighing loudly. "Yer brain must of stopped workin'. Why do ya want ta stop the boat out here?"

"Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaasssssse?"

Ford was giving him big, pleadful eyes. Ones that made Stan's heart ache slightly. While Ford's wasn't as strong as Mabel's when she gave him those eyes, he wasn't about to deny his brother's request. No matter how strange it was.

"Alright, alright. We'll stop here. Then will ya go ta bed?"

Ford nodded his head sluggishly.

In a matter of moments, the Stan O War II was now stopped in the middle in the ocean, far away from the city which was now just a speck in the distance.

"Alright, the boat's stopped an'… what are ya doin'?"

Stan watched as Ford stumbled his way over to a small cooler placed against the wall a little ways from the door. "Driiink." Was Ford's only mumbled response, opening the small container and pulling out a can of Pitt Cola.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Na-ah mister!" Stan snatched the can out of Ford's hand. "We don't need ya gettin' sugar hyper."

"Nooooo!" Ford made a reach for the can, but his moments were sluggish and slow. Stan kept the can out of reach, but Ford continued to make a grab for it. "Giiiiime me mmmy drinnn Sttaaaaanyyyyy."

"Sixer, go ta bed!" Stan was getting very irritated by Ford's antics. "Ya can have yer drink in the mornin', jus' go ta bed already!"

"Noooooo!"

"Ya know what?! That's it!" Stan kept Ford away as he opened the can and downed the whole thing, spitting out the pit. "There." He smugly grinned, wiping his face. "Now get ta bed! At least one of us will get a decent night rest."

"… I couldn't agree more."

Stan stared, dumbfounded as Ford pulled away, smiling smugly as he stood. Before he could say anything, possibly throw a punch at Ford as well, he was suddenly hit by a dizzy spell. "Wwwwwwhaaaaaaaa?" He only had three seconds to stay conscious, throwing Ford a hurtful glare before he slumped forwards, falling into Stanford's out stretched arms.

Once the sound of Stan's deep snores reached his ears, Ford slowly relaxed, slumping forward as he knelled to the ground, holding his brother close as he slept. He hated that he had to do this, there was no excuse for drugging his brother, his twin, like this. On one hand it made things… easier. But on the other? It tarnished their trust.

"I'm sorry Stanley." He ran one hand through Stan's hair, running slow circles in his scalp, ignoring how his fingers felt they were being cooked by the heat emanating from Stan's body. The Ketamine he managed to slip into the drink was always fast acting when he had to resort to it, but he wished that he didn't need to. "It'll be over soon Stanley." He gazed out over to the setting sun. The last rays of light were vanishing quickly. "I promise."

The last of the sun's light vanished, leaving the sky to the night's black grip. The moment Ford dreaded.

A loud, resonating **_CRACK_** echoed in the silent sea. One so loud, and so uncomfortable, Ford flinched in discomfort. Only for more, smaller sounding, yet still loud enough cracking noises followed after. Ford hated this, not because the sounds of bones snapping out of place made him uncomfortable, but because he knew what was going to happen next.

He didn't want to look, he never wanted to look when it started, but he had to. No, he **needed** to. This wasn't easy for him as it was more so for Stan. So he did.

It was never easy seeing this happen, especially to his own twin. Skin darkening as black dots appeared, poking out of his skin by dozens. Bones were breaking apart as they shifted and molded back together in a new alignment. Stan's breathing started to hitch, whining softly as his innards were shifted and changing to meet his body's changing demands.

Ford bit his lip as Stan made a painful yelping noise, tucking his limbs close his body. He knew this would be over soon enough, yet it always hurt to watch his twin in pain like this. There was nothing he could do to stop it, to ease it away and help his twin.

Finally, Stan body was starting to expand, the finally part of the gruesome transformation. Then flames of orange and gold surrounded Stan, engulfing his body. In a single minute, the flames grew in size, doubling, then tripling till it towered over Ford. Then, it was gone, leaving as it had when it appeared, leaving behind not his brother.

But a creature of a curse.


	3. Curse

The universe was full of surprises. Surprises were a natural order to life. Life was a mystery hidden in the shadows. Shadows hid secrets. Secrets held wonder. Wonder helped the mind grow. The mind gains knowledge as it grows and becomes wise with wisdom. Wisdom provided insight. Insight gave way to new perspectives one could not see before.

In conclusion to all of this?

Stanford Filbrick Pines, man of 12 P.H.d's, past universal traveler, man of science and studies of the unknown, recorder of the strange, reader of knowledge, king of codes, quick of wit and plan, solver of life's great mysteries, and explorer of places which no man would dare go…

… Had no clue of what to do with his present situation.

Something only one man in the world, nay, the whole UNIVERSE capable enough to do such a task.

The only problem was that 'man' happened to be his brother, who was his twin, who happened to be knocked out by the drug his slipped into one of his favorite soft drinks, who also happened to be not a _man_ at the moment but a _thing_.

Well, not exactly a 'thing', but he had no other name for the form Stan was now in. Names of what to give this new form were always on the tip of his tongue, in the very top of his brain, but not a single one seemed right or fit with Stan's transformation.

Not that he could call this a transformation.

More like a pain inflicted **_curse_** that took hold every new moon night on his brother. A curse that Stan had no clear memory of how or why he had such a curse on him in the first place.

Ford sighed, shifting slightly so that he was more comfortable with Stan's new head still resting on his upper legs. His breathing was deep and slow, a good sign that gave Ford some ease. It was always a worry when he had to resort to drugging Stan. Ketamine was fast at doing its job, but he only made sure to put in enough that wouldn't do any harmful lasting damage to his brother in doing so. Making him sleep when the curse would take hold was a… more easy going on Stan. But resorting to that was, (thankfully), rare.

Stan's 'curse' was an odd one. One that was certainly new to Ford when he came to light about the situation his brother was in. And one that seemed to always evade his searching for clues of breaking it. It grew frustrating and irritating the more time passed by, with Ford always coming up empty handed and not one step closer to figuring this curse out.

The main thing about Stan's curse was that it took hold every new moon night when the last rays of sunlight vanished. After that, that was when Stan was transformed into this new form till the sun rose the next day.

It was luck for them that the curse didn't happen every night and only just on the one, but from what Ford could tell, it was anything but peaceful.

Yes, this was Stanley, his twin brother, but on some nights of the new moon, Stan acted… different. Less of himself and more like the hostile creatures they had to fight off now and again. If tonight happened to be one of those nights…

Ford shivered.

It was hard to defend himself when he knew the creature he was fighting off was his own brother. He was lucky most of those nights when he walked away with only a few minor scratches. He was lucky his skill beyond the portal were still in good use, but for how long would it last with his aging body?

He really didn't want to find out.

Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a small tape recorder, clearing his throat a bit before switching it on. "Status report. Year ten. April. Tonight is yet another new moon, and, as expected, Stan's curse has actuated. Time record has stayed in the same time frame of under three minutes. Unfortunately, the resort of using drugs had to be used. Memory may have lapsed again judging how he had acted today with follow up support from the drugs he slipped into my portion of dinner. It's forgivably understandable since this action has happened plenty times in the past, and with the recurring memory loss after the new moon passes, it's safe to assume not all memories had returned tonight."

"Full note, the drug will soon wear off thanks to the enhancement in the immune syst—" Ford leaped back in surprise as Stan suddenly, and quickly, jolted up. New legs jolted and slipped out from under him, ending in tangled mess on the floor, struggled to find some leverage to stand up properly. The motion was rocking the boat quite a bit enough that Ford was worried it would tip over.

Luckily, Stan managed to find his bearings with his new limbs, steadying himself as the boat slowly stilled. There was an awkward silence the hung between them, one who had no idea if it was alright to say anything at this point, and the other gaining his bearings. Stan's head suddenly snapped towards Ford's direction, freezing the scientist in place.

He had seen those eyes plenty of times over the years, yet they were always startling to see. Stan's whole head had reshaped and formed into a skull of an animal, most notably in equine shape and stature but the teeth were replaced with more sharp pointed canine molars that lined the whole mouth to the back of the jawline. The eye sockets were notably spaced out more than a regular horse skull, shifted to look forward with some sideline view.

The eye sockets in particular were filled with inky blackness that no light could pierce through. And Ford had tried nearly all possibilities of lights from this and other dimensions.

None had worked.

But what really worried Ford was the absence of glowing bronze orbs that were supposed to be in each socket. Not deep, dark abysses that were gouging deep into his soul. It was hard to determine if Stan was in control of himself each new moon night, and every night Ford had to make sure that Stan had some control of his new body or else things would get bad for both of them.

Thankfully, it didn't seem to be the case tonight as the orbs blinked into existence, relieving Ford some of his worry. However, his relief didn't last too long as a bone snout was suddenly pressed against his own nose, along with a deep rumbling angry growl as the orbs turned a light reddish color.

"Hey! Don't start giving me that Stanley! I did it for your own good!" Ford huffed, pushing Stan off him as he got up off the ground. "Honestly Stanley, I wouldn't have resorted to using the drug if you hadn't tried to drug me first."

A series of clacking jitters mixed with low powerful growls emanated as Stan glared back at Ford, giving a small hiss as he sat on his haunches in what little room the deck gave him.

"Stanley." Ford gave a huff as Stan turned his head away, showing the full view backside of his head. He didn't know which was more difficult to handle. Stan in his normal form or in his cursed form. They were both arguably stubborn and hardheaded to deal with, though the cursed side of Stan was a little more aggressive than his normal side.

It was better to get things out of the way before anything got out of hand at this point. "Look, I'm sorry for pulling a stunt on you like that." Stan's head tilted slightly, looking at him from a corner angle. "But what else was I supposed to do in such a situation like that? It was clear you didn't fully remember that—"

Stan twisted around, letting out a bloodcurdling monstrous scream right out in front of Ford's very face with a forced as strong as high wind speeds with a gust of hot temperatures that could measure up to the heat of a volcano.

The entirety of the scream lasted for a good ten seconds before Stan stopped, letting out a hot puff, looking back out again with no show of facing Ford again. Ford's glasses were slightly askew on his face, his greying hair tousled out of place from the force they were thrown into. Luckily, Ford was used to this behavior Stan displayed in this form. And wise enough to know it was best to let Stan brew in his emotions a bit before dealing with them.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves down and letting it out as a deep sigh, he carefully chose his next words. "Stanley, I'm sorry for what I did. And believe me, I didn't want to resort to such a thing." A gruff huff answered him. "Really! You know as well as I do that I never intend to do such things to you, even in such situations such as this." He stepped forward, getting close enough that while he was a little out of ways at a reaching distance, it still gave Stan enough space not to feel closed up or threatened.

"But you're slightly unpredictable in this state. It's hard to tell if you're in control or if you're not." At that, Stan did turn his head slightly. "We both know it's safe to take precautions, only when necessary. And, well." Ford rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away sideways. "You're memory didn't fully come back right away tonight."

Stan made small sets of clacking sounds, twisting his head to glare at Ford, though the red tint in his orbs were fading but still lingered.

"Stanley, I've known about the curse for nearly eight years now."

The orbs turned into a milky white color as Stan reared his head back, looking like an animal that had just been spooked. The milky white soon turned into violet, then it mixed with turquoise. Ford waited, watching the orbs glow in the dark night. A few minutes passed before the orbs returned to their normal bronze color. Stan just stood there for a moment, staring at Ford for a long minute that seemed to be forever.

A high pitched yelp emanated as Stan's newly acquired wings puffed out in full view before quickly covering the whole front of Stan while emanating out small sounds that sounded to be a mix of barks and pips.

Relief flooded Ford as he let out a hearty laugh, reaching his hands out and running them through the forest of abyss black feather that were hiding his brother. "It's fine Stanley! This isn't the first time that it's happened." A high whine came from within the feathers, shifting suddenly downwards till they landed in a mound on the deck with a loud THUMP. Another series of laughs escaped Ford as he knelled down beside the mound.

"It's okay Stanley. No damage was done." Ford calmly spoke, running one hand through the feathers in a slow petting motion. It was a marvel how soft they felt to his touch, and yet so easy to run all six fingers through them. Like they were nothing but air. "You were just having a small recurrence of the nights before I came into light about this."

Stan let out a small grumbling growl, still hiding under the feather mound.

"It could have been worse." Ford shifted himself, sitting Indian style next to his twin, leaning against him as he did a slow sweeping motion with one arm, going in wide circles. "At least you have control of yourself tonight. I didn't think I could handle your other self."

The feathers shifted, parting away enough for an orb to glare at him.

"Alright, alright, fine." Ford sighed after staring at the orb for some time. "We both know that's a lie. But, still." He smiled softly as the orb loosened its glare at him. "It's nice to know that you're still yourself."

Stan was still for a moment. Finally, with a huff, Stan shifted his body, drawing back his wings and folding them neatly against his back. Long thin bird-like legs folded under his body, hidden completely from view and out of sight. Stan growled, jittering clicks as he faced Ford.

"I'm glad that's been settled." Ford held out a hand, rubbing under Stan's jaw. A deep powerful rumble emanated from Stan's throat, leaning into Ford's touch as the orbs turned a pinkish tint. "Now, if I may?" He held up the tape recorder.

Stan stared at the little device. With a puff, he laid his neck down on the ground.

"Thank you." Ford cleared his throat, running a hand along Stan's neck. "Tonight is a safe night. The curse has taken effect but Stanley still retains his memories. Last new moon study was on the legs. Now I want to shift focus on the wings." Below him, Stan let out a whine.

* * *

The inside of the Stan O' War II was warm as Ford stepped inside. He didn't like to leave Stan by himself out there, but his body was too big to fit through the door and Stan didn't like confined spaces in his cursed form. He would be back out again as soon as his body warmed up again.

And coffee. Coffee sounded nice at the moment.

With the kettle on the stove, Ford sat down on at the small table, taking out a small booklet hidden within the wall. It was a small book, smaller than his first three journals with white cover and an antler symbol on the front. Small bookmarks stuck out between pages, one having a kitty sticker on it.

He opened the small book near the front. A drawn picture of Stan's current form stared right back at him, hunched in a sitting position.

 **I was finally able to convince Stanley to let me draw a small picture of his 'curse' in this journal. It's not much but since this is the only thing that has not disappeared yet, it's safe to assume that it won't be going away any time soon.**

 **I've note down some parts of his body that could help in finding out what this curse is and how to possible undo it.**

 **Head- The only part of his body that's skeletal. The head resembles much like a horse, eye sockets are position in the upper side area giving forward and sideways view. Teeth have turned sharp with strong bite force. Been bitten once and had to get stitches and a cast in a sling, but no signs of the curse being transferred to me. Can now rule out one possible theory of how Stanley got inflicted with the curse.**

 **Antlers- Grow out from the back of the head. They grow out like tree limbs that reach almost all the way to his tail. Very sharp. Tried to touch them once, resulting in the bite incident. Apparently, whatever Stanley has turned into doesn't like it when someone tries to touch their antlers.**

 **Ears- Between the head and antlers. Big, round, and can turn in all directions. And very soft to play with~. Noted that this should** ** _not_** **be a constant thing as Stanley does NOT enjoy having his ears touched and having my hands so close to his antlers. Don't want my arm in a cast again.**

 **Neck- Long, like a llama, covered in thick 'mane' comprised of fur and feathers that blend together it's hard to tell if it's fur or feather. Starts at the back of the head and ends at the shoulders.**

 **Body- Slim, long, bony. Fully black in color. Structural standard like a cat, though front limbs are birdlike and the hind legs are that of a mix of lion and wolf. Back, underbelly, and hind legs are covered in 'fur', but the top halve of front limbs has 'feathers'.**

 **Wings- Interestingly enough, Stanley has two pairs of wings. The first pair are feathers, located on his back near the lower end of the shoulder blades, shaped for speed as they match the structure of a peregrine falcon. Almost three times the size of his body, yet folds up neatly on his back they appear smaller this way. Second pair are located further down on the sides of the spinal cord. Skin is in place of feathers, matching the same way as a bat. These are more for power as more muscles are developed here and much bigger than the first pair, giving more boost to flight and strength. Second pair fold** ** _inside_** **the body, showing no trace of their existence unless needed.**

 **Tail- Extends out the back with an impressive twenty feet. Trail of 'mane' goes down from the base end flank all the way to the tip ending in a tuff. The tail can act as a whip and form of limb grabbing appendage.**

 **Eyes- One orb in each eye socket, changes various colors depending on Stanley's mood. Shift and bend to match facial expressions and has been amusing to see what they can do.**

 **Using these key factors I've collected, these could help in finding what Stanley turns into every new moon night. If I can compare to what creature that closely resembled these parts, then maybe I can find a way to fix this. Hopefully soon.**

The day he wrote this was seven years ago. And he was still no closer to finding anything about it.

The next few pages had some monsters that they tracked down, matching some similarities to Stan's curse.

The Jersey Devil was the closest to matching, than a griffin, a dragon, wendigo, sphinx, chupacabra, nagas, couple of tree spirits, ghosts, manticors, gargoyles, vampires, black dogs, mngwa, trolls, ghouls, and countless other creatures that they encounter over the years.

Nothing.

Stan's curse was certainly one of a kind.

Not even spells could undo it. And Ford had literally kidnapped a witch one time to undo Stan's curse, but nothing could break it and Ford was turned into a cat for a week.

He sighed deeply, rubbing circles in his skin at his temple.

Eight years of work and still he could find no clues.

Stan really needed to stop being such a big mystery

* * *

Stan really hated it when it was a new moon night. When he transformed into this… thing. New limbs and all the stuff.

He hated how his senses were torn from human and whatever he was. He wanted to be human. He was human! He remembered being _born_ human. Not… **_this_**! He knew it was a curse. Curse of what? He couldn't remember. What did he do? He didn't know. Was there anything he did? _No_. Did he touch anything? **_No_**. Did he have _anything_ that could help?

 ** _NO!_**

He was cursed and that's all he knew! Why or how he had no recollection of! He knew when he got the curse. Five years after 'the _incident_ ' happened, but that was it! His memory was fussy after that and nothing else.

Stan sighed, gazing at his reflection in the water. It was ugly to look at himself like this. The monsters they met over the past decade had uglier looks, but Stan always found himself disgusted more by his own reflection. He hated how he looked, how unnatural his body was shaped now.

Being forced to take on a new body every new moon night, fighting every part of himself to stay in control, trying so hard not to let Sixer know how much this was getting to him. If Ford knew then he'd dive deeper than he already was trying to find a way to reverse the curse.

Stan wasn't an idiot. He knew Ford was trying to help, but yeesh! Poor guy was running himself ragged trying to find anything that would help. Heck, he even dragged a witch to help and that didn't even work! He was stuck with a cat for a brother for a week.

That was hardly any fun.

One ear twitched, and Stan looked away from his reflection over to the door. Ford came out, carrying a mug in one hand and a book under his arm. His face scrunched up and his eyes had the look of a man trying to solve the greatest mystery of the world.

Stan grumbled a greeting as his brother came over, setting the mug down and taking out the little recorder. "The first study of the first pair of wings have been fruitless. As recorded before, any samples that I tried to study for further analyses disintegrates the moment it's detached from Stanley's body. It leaves no trace and studying it while it's still attached to Stanley has proven to be very frustrating." Ford grabbed hold of one wing, pulling it out some so that the feathers spread out. "Each time I tried to study the feathers of the first set of wings, it's always a different alignment in the barbs. Overlapping, under lapping, crisscrossing, and sometimes even straight."

"No anomalies we've come across has the same set as these feathers. But what of the second set? What secrets do they hold? I want to study every possible clue that could be hidden in case there's any chance of finding a way to break the curse."

Stan huffed, bending his neck down on the rail as he got comfortable. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Four hours came and went, and Ford was no closer than when he had started.

Ford yawned, rubbing his eyes. Nothing new tonight. Just like all the other nights over the past years. Nothing to help or point him in the right direction.

Stan trilled softly, bumping his nose against Ford's shoulder.

"I'm not tired Stanley. I need to find something." He glanced at the outstretched wing laid out on his lap. The booklet was laid out on top, open on a page with a drawn out detail of the bat wing appendage, notes drawn all over with every little detail Ford could grasp at. Anything that would help. "Anything."

Stan rumbled lowly. They both knew it was a lie. Ford had tried countless times trying to find anything that could link to Stan's curse, but nothing ever did.

"Just have to find it." Ford grabbed the mug, almost completely empty and gone cold hours ago, and downed the rest of it. "Just need to keep looking."

He set the mug aside and was back to studying the wing again, not stopping until midnight, clocked out against his brother, snoring away peacefully with Stan's wing draped around him, shielding him from the cold.

It was nice to see his brother getting some sleep, but he hated how Ford only got it after exhausting all his energy. All because of him.

A deep sigh echoed in the darkness, shifting into a more comfortable position without waking Ford up.

This needed to stop. Ford could barely stay awake now a days, and hardly stopped to take care of himself trying to find anything that would help break this curse. And one way or another, it was going to kill Ford. From lack of taking care of himself or by Stan himself, he didn't know. And he didn't want to know, or to happen.

Ford had too much on his mind trying to help Stan out, too determined to let it go after fruitless trails and countless errors. Nothing helped and nothing worked. Stan had given up years ago before Ford came back and found out about it. He tried to talk Ford out of finding anything that would help, humor him a bit and trying to keep him from going past any limits he couldn't do. But Ford was stubbornly persistent.

Just like a real Pines man. Stubbornness run's in the family.

Stan curled around Ford, getting comfortable as he closed his eyes. His body would keep them warm until the first rays of the sun broke through the horizon. The curse would then disappear till the next new moon night. For now though, he just wanted to get some shut eye.

* * *

Darker, darker, and darker still.

Every direction held darkness.

He yelped and chirped, bumping the ground with his nose, scratching everything.

Was it safe? How far had they gone? How far away were they from home?

He looked back at his friend, chirping at her to keep up.

Bluey was slow, looking around. Scared, sad. So far away from home.

He bounded over to her, pawing at her legs.

No need to be sad.

Bluey had him!

He would protect her!

She sent him a small smile.

Too small. Too sad. He needed her to be happy!

Bouncing and leaping around with happy chirps, trying to get her to smile.

Still small smile.

Needed her to be happy.

But what could he do?

The mother had sent them away.

They needed to get home.

That would make her happy again.

How?

It was dangerous without big guide.

And he was still little.

They needed help.

They needed to get home.

How would they get there without big guide?

Without mother?

They needed help!

They needed.

They needed.

They _needed._

 ** _{Svok.}_**

It echoed in the darkness.

It crawled along the land.

It soar through the skies.

It cut through the barrier.

It crawled through the sea.

It reached a small boat out on the sea.

On the boat, an ear twitched.

* * *

 _12-19-22-18 4-17-1 17-22-18-3-19-26._

 _1-4-13-20 4-12 3-19-4-2-20 17-22-24-23-11._

 _3-16-10-17-1 3-6 11-23-26 12-6-18-3-16-19._

 _17-16 19-22-18-22-11-12 22-17 23-26-22-24-23-11._

 _2-5-17 2-16-10 12-16-19-9-26 11-23-26 13-22-1-1-19-26?_

 _4-17-1 18-4-6-3-26 24-26-11 22-11 13-22-24-23-11?_


End file.
